when evening comes

♪rhymed, mirrored double octets♪  

how  i  miss  the   a p p l e   b l o s s o m s  
of   t h e  tamarind   s e a s o n   days,  
when the boys would climb high  
for  luscious  ripe  plums,  
young birds nesting  
o n   a   l i m b  
i l l - a t -  
ease!  
sweetwood-dancing leaves with lissome  
whispers  made  o u r   spirits   blaze  
to  see   t h e m   s w i r l i n g   by;  
then,  when  evening  comes,  
hearts   p r o t e s t i n g  
in   t h e   d i m  
daylight  
freeze.  
 
torchlight fishing for dumb crayfish  
sent  us  round  the  river  bend  
during household sleep time  
i n   mosquito   n e t s.  
made-up stories  
filled the dark  
with our  
catch.  
must   i  w e e p   each  time  i  say  this?  
in  that  world  that  had  no   e n d,  
freedom  is  now   c o n f i n e d  
where the moonlight sets.  
youthful  g l o r i e s  
lose their spark  
neath our  
watch.  
 
© Copyright 2019 September 16  
by Clyve A. Bowen♫